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Wind

James awoke to the sound of the rain clattering the window as if someone was throwing endless handfuls of marbles against the glass. The wind had died down the evening before and he had eventually got to sleep, although it had taken him quite some time; thunder and lightning were a breeze and had never phased him, but the wind and rain that was another matter.

Of course he knew that it couldn’t harm him – not really – but the creeking noises in the walls and the rattling of the windows which accompanied the wind propelled rain onslaught would make him jump every time he heard them. How could he be sure that the next gust, the final blustering, roaring blow wouldn’t bring the entire house down around him.

And so he would lie, looking up and around frantically at every sound, waiting for the innevitable to happen and silently praying for the first light of day.

Published inEndless Beginnings